


When you can't take no more ('cause when it rains it pours)

by Jumbledbyrd



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Camping, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Illnesses, Pining, Pre-Relationship, the boys are trying their best, the pining is prom/noct btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26062921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jumbledbyrd/pseuds/Jumbledbyrd
Summary: Noctis and Prompto manage to talk Ignis into letting them go camping, it goes well, until it doesn't.
Kudos: 21





	When you can't take no more ('cause when it rains it pours)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from New Politics- One of Us  
> This was originally written to be the prequel to a much longer fic that I haven't actually written yet, so watch this space i guess  
> also the POV is all over the damn place so watch out for that

The arcade was loud, even for a Friday night, the blinking lights of the various games and machines catching in the corners of Noctis’ vision, but there wasn’t anywhere he’d rather be at that moment.

He and Prom had been coming out to the arcade on a Friday afternoon for _months_ now, chilling out after school, and Ignis would come and pick them up later into the night, once they’d had enough junk food to make the advisor roll his eyes, and the two teenage boys almost go into a food coma. But it was _fun_.

That night, the pair of them were facing off in a racing game, the simulators shaking around them.

“This is why Ignis won’t let you drive dude!” Prompto laughs, watching as Noct’s car slams into a side wall, the whole machine shuddering all the while.

“Shut up, it’s not like you’re allowed to drive either.” Noct grumbles, resetting himself in the chair, eyeing off Prom’s screen, a frown forming when he sees how far in front of him the blond has gotten.

“I’m perfectly happy just sitting in the back anyway,” he pauses for a second as he careens around a virtual corner, “can’t take photos if I’m driving you know?”

“Whatever,” Noct rolled his eyes, “I swear you’d marry that camera if you could.”

“Maybe so.” Prom says, and cackles when the words _First Place!_ Come across his screen in large letters, Noct rolling his eyes and getting up from the machine.

The pair of them end up standing outside, and its still pretty warm out, the summer air definitely not fresh for being along a main road, but still better than the muggy and sweat-smelling interior of the building.

“You ready for tomorrow?” the prince asks, smoothing back his hair from where it had been messed up during their heated rounds.

Prompto leans back against a pole, scrolling through something on his phone, but looks up at the prince- his best friend- with an enthused smile. “Yeah! Would you believe I’ve never been camping?”

Noct squints at him, a scrutinising look coming across his face, then nods, “Yeah, I believe it. You wouldn’t survive a night by yourself.”

“Uh rude.” Prompto puts his phone in his pocket and crosses his arms, but the smile doesn’t leave his face, “And like you would do any better! I’ve seen your training sessions with Gladio dude.” A car’s headlights illuminate the back of Noct’s head, and with a quick glance at his phone to check the time, Noct knows that it must be Ignis.

The older boy (young man, really) doesn't bother getting out of the car, and the prince lets himself in. The inside of the car is soft, cream-coloured leather that's so well-taken care of that if Noctis didn't know any better, he would think the advisor paid someone to do it. Prompto follows closely behind, and the pair of them sit in the back seat. The advisor nods his greeting, and Prom starts to tell him about their rounds at the arcade. At least until he starts to talk about how excited he is for the next few days.

"Do you guys think we'll see any wild Chocobos?" The blonde says excitedly, leaning forward in the seat.

"Chocobo's aren't really known for being in the area, but they're rather adaptable creatures, so it's a possibility." The advisor says gently. Noctis knows that means it's probably a no, but nobody likes to say no to Prom. 

"We're way more likely to just see a lotta bugs." The prince says, and he doesn't even need to see Ignis in the front seat to know that the advisor is rolling his eyes. He's always been a stickler for proper language, but personally, Noct doesn't see the point, because it's not like everyone else speaks like that, and he's supposed to be a representation of the people, so why should he speak any differently to them?

In any case, the conversation moves on around him, and they talk about what the plan is for the next few days, being dropped off by a member of the crownsguard, and they'll hike out for a few nights, end up out at some clearing that Gladio had picked by throwing a dart at a map, and then hike back to the wall.

Noctis is pretty sure that Prom will be fine with the walking, but Ignis has already told the prince that he's putting in a few doses of his pain medication. His back didn't play up too much these days, but the walking could trigger it, and the advisor didn't want to take any chances. Noctis acted like he wasn’t too worried about it, and it had been a while since his last flare up, but he didn’t want to ruin the trip with his back taking him out of commission, the pain still lingering from the daemon attack when he was a kid. He was over it, really. He just didn’t want to annoy everyone and make them have to wait up for him. As the prince and future king, he should really be the one leading the way.

It’s a Friday night though, which means that Prom is able to stay at the Citadel. Ignis has never minded, because even though he can get loud when they play video games, Prompto has never been anything less than a model guest, and just quietly, he thinks that the young man can do with the time away from his parents. Ignis doesn’t fancy himself as one to pry into the lives of others, but from what he’s heard, the two adoptive parents of young mister Argentum are going through a rather nasty separation, and though he’s never been through it himself, he can imagine that time away from a volatile household can only be a good thing.

The Citadel isn’t exactly a bastion of peace and quiet, as there is always _something_ going on inside, but it’s not quite the same as whatever must be going on at home.

In any case, the trio end up back at the Citadel for the night, and much of it is spent sitting in Noct's room playing video games in much the same way they played at the arcade. It's definitely not quiet, but it is peaceful, and though neither of them notices, the looks that are held slightly too long, shared between them, speak more than words ever could.

The morning after, Prompto wakes up on the couch, jumping at the sound of the door slamming open. Blinking his eyes open, he sees that it's just Gladio, over-excited and loud. The light is streaming in through the windows, the blackout curtains having already been drawn by Ignis. Prompto isn't quite sure when the older blonde got there, but he doesn't remember him leaving the night before, so maybe he stayed.

Ignis informs him that they'll be leaving in half an hour, and they'll stop by Prompto's house on the way to pick up his things. He didn't need to buy a tent or anything, because he was fine with sharing with everyone else. He did get his own sleeping bag though, there was a certain line that bros didn't cross. And maybe he wanted to be more than bros with Noct, but that was his problem, and not having his own sleeping bag definitely wouldn't solve that one.

Pining for at least one of his bros aside, Prompto was genuinely excited for this trip. He got up, toes curling in the long carpet, and (yawning) asked "Need any help?" directed at where Ignis was in the small kitchen, already started on a breakfast that Prompto didn't think he'd ever get used to (or take for granted, food was sometimes hard to come by at home, especially at the moment when his parents couldn't stop arguing about who's turn it was to pay for groceries, almost always ending in a standoff until he got paid from his job at the computer store, and bought something to break the tension).

Ignis simply shook his head, "If you wish to help, you can try and wake his Highness," tone laced with that subtle sarcasm that had taken him months of hanging around Noct and the advisor to really hear, unlike Gladio, who is easy to read and wears his feelings on his sleeve.

In any case, Prompto pushes open the door to Noct's room, knowing the light let in wouldn't be anywhere near enough to wake him up. So, he walks across the floor (clean, at Ignis' behest), and opens the curtains. The windows are bulletproof glass, and they don't open in Noct's bedroom at all, and even though he knows it’s only for the Prince's safety, he can't help but feel like they make the room feel ominous and closed off.

The light streaming in from the curtains doesn't wake the prince, as expected, so Prompto moves on to the next part of his plan. He can't help but let his eyes linger on the prince for a moment, and then his cunning plan can be put into motion. He doesn't even need to be quiet as he jumps up and slams himself down onto the prince’s bed with a cackle, and Gladio is there in the doorway, chuckling as well.

Noctis doesn't wake with a start like Prompto would have, but instead he wakes slowly and groggy, opening one eye and glaring at the blonde. The blonde, who is smiling down at him, one corner of his mouth tilted up cheekily.

"Come on, we need to get moving soon." Prompto says. The prince groans and tries to pull his pillow back over his head, blocking out the light.

Gladio invites himself into the bedroom, and grabs the prince's ankle in one hand, then turns and starts to walk away, leaving the prince's hands scrambling to hold on to the bed. With a crash and a loud groan (followed quickly by chiding from Ignis) the prince is awake for good. He doesn't seem happy about it, but getting a plate of food in front of him certainly helps. Prompto eagerly sits down at the table as well, thanking Ignis, and digs in.

The next hour or so seem to pass in a blur, getting ready, and getting in the car, picking up his stuff from home, and finally, finally, starting on their way out of the city. The sights and the sounds of leaving the city behind feel so strange to Noctis, because with the exception of maybe two school trips, he's never really left Insomnia.

The land outside the city is lush and green, but wild in a way that insomnia isn’t -could never be- what with the amount of people that live in it. No, the flowers outside grow in no particular pattern, the grass is tall and unkempt, and the sound of animals (mostly small, but some larger out somewhere in the distance) are heard.

They get dropped off out in what already seems like the middle of nowhere to Noctis (and Prompto, who has barely been out of the city since he was a kid, during times that he would much rather forget, and times that he would very much rather nobody knew about) but he had a smile on his face.

“Woohoo!” Prompto laughed, “lets get this trip going!” he hiked his backpack further up, camera still hanging around his neck. The others smiled at him, Noctis rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Come on pipsqueak,” Gladio said, putting an arm around Prompto’s shoulders and starting to drag him down the barely-there trail. “We’ve got a long walk to the nearest haven, and if you we want to be there by nightfall, we better get a move on.”

“Indeed.” Ignis said, adjusting his glasses.

And with that, they were off.

The walk was in fact, long, and rife with complaints (Gladio telling Noctis to stop lagging behind, Prompto complaining any time an animal moved before he could get a photo, Noctis asking the ever-typical “are we there yet”, and Ignis not outwardly complaining, but definitely having the look on his face of a man regretting his decisions). But somehow, the four of them managed to get to the first haven in one peace.

The sun was just starting to set, and the haven was in a clearing. Though they weren’t particularly high up, it’s still enough to see the horizon over some of the treetops, and it’s gorgeous. As the sun slowly sets and they begin to set up camp, the stars come out.

Noctis is awestruck. He knows that the light pollution in Insomnia hides most of the stars, but this, nobody had ever told him that simply looking up at the sky could look like the pictures of space taken by professional observatories.

He hears Gladio laugh behind him, and there’s a slightly bitter edge to it. “It only gets better than this.” Noctis somehow manages to tear his eyes away from the sky, feeling lightheaded at the entirety of it all, and looks back at Gladio.

“You go out camping with your dad and your sister, right?” Noctis asks, sitting himself down in one of the camp chairs.

The Shield nods at that. “Yeah, whenever we could manage it, usually about once a year. It’s not easy for all of us to be away, but the sights make the work worth it.”

“Yeah.” His eyes skate over the stars again, then back down in front of him to where Prompto is helping Ignis with food.

The food is delicious, as always, and they spend the night joking and talking and just hanging out peacefully in the way that teenagers do, (after all, Gladio who is the oldest, is still only nineteen) and eventually, they migrate into the two tents that they set up earlier in the evening.

Prompto finds himself in the tent with Noctis, and they’ve never had a problem with being affectionate with each other, so Prompto has no shame in admitting that he’s being the little spoon in his sleeping bag, and having Noctis at his back is comforting. But, looking out the side of the tent at where there is still light thanks to the runes of the haven still sends a shiver down his spine, every shadow looking like a threat.

“You okay Prom?” Noctis says sleepily, his arm resettling over Prompto’s ribs. It’s comforting, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off the shadows outside for long enough to close them. He has this problem at home sometimes too, not the shadows, but not being able to close his eyes, being too alert to sleep.

“Yeah dude.” He says tersely, and Noct makes a small, disapproving noise as Prompto rolls his shoulders, almost dislodging the prince. “Just trying to settle down, you know?” He tries again, this time slightly more relaxed in his tone.

“Are you,” the prince pauses, “scared of the dark?” he sounds more awake now, and there’s a hint of amusement to his tone.

“No!” He almost shakes the prince off at that, but one of the shadows moves suddenly, and he squeaks, curling back into the arms of his best friend, who only laughs at his pain, the traitor. “It’s more what’s in the dark that’s scary.” He says much more quietly.

Noctis puts his chin on Prompto’s shoulder, and it’s not like it’s any closer than they’ve been before, but it feels different like this (of course it’s different, they’re lying on the ground (well, on an inflatable mattress) and its cold and there are weird noises outside more than just the low thrum of magic in the runes of the haven). Different like more intimate, the feeling of Noct’s breath on his neck, of another person’s warmth keeping him safe and still, the very most primal parts of his brain take deep joy in having a person that he trusts keeping his back safe, even if he could never put it into words.

“None of the daemons can get onto the haven. That’s what they’re here for in the first place.” Noct says, and Prom nods. He knows that, he really does. He just needs to convince his non-functional brain of it.

“I know.” He ends up saying. “Lemme roll over.” He adjusts himself so he’s butted his head up under Noct’s chin, not able to look out the side of the tent anymore, and his eyes finally close, comforted by the warmth and presence of another person. Noct’s arms are around him (snaked under his sleeping bag because of the chill) holding him close and tight, and he knows his hair is going to be all messed up in the morning, but tonight, he doesn’t care.

The rest of the night passes peacefully, and the next day as well. The weather is warm but not humid, and they skirt around a herd of Anaks, eventually having to _drag_ Prompto away from them, laughing all the while.

They sleep in another haven that night, and Prompto finds himself tired enough from the walking that he falls asleep with more ease than the night before.

The following day is when things begin to change.

Gladio knew that they weren’t going to be sleeping on a haven that night, but he didn’t think it would be a big deal. The place they set up camp was relatively hidden, tucked in under a rocky incline, out of sight completely from any view except front-on.

But when Gladio was woken during the middle of the night, his intuition just telling him that something was _wrong,_ he knew. He extracted himself away from Ignis, trying to avoid waking him, and left the tent. No point waking the advisor if it was a false alarm. The other tent was quiet, so the prince and his friend were clearly asleep as well. He stepped out from under the incline to look at the sky, and found the moon still hanging high, the stars illuminating the ground in front of him almost as well as the runes of a haven would.

He stands for a second, every nerve in his body on alert, trying to pick out which noises were harmless animals, and which ones could be something dangerous.

He didn’t have to wait long.

A cackling laugh came from beside him, and the Shield flinches with a curse, and hurried to pull his greatsword from Noct’s armiger, knowing that would wake the prince (even if nothing else would). The small daemon was fast though, and even with his training, Gladio took too long to catch him. There was already more of them, and now that his brain had a moment to catch up, he knows that they’re Goblins.

He swears loudly and pulls one up by the back of its neck, throwing it across the small cavern, as he sees movement from both tents, the others at least starting to wake up. He can only hope that the commotion makes them move quickly.

As Gladio stands in the mouth of the cavern, trying to not let any of the small daemons get in to where his friends are, he cannot be faulted with missing one of them. He would blame himself, of course, but he was trying his best, and it was not the best of situations.

The one goblin that had made its way past him, unseen and unheard, snuck into the small overhang, coming up behind the prince and Prompto as they made their way out of the tent. With a cackle, the daemon jumps at the prince, the magic thrumming through him a great temptation that such a beast could not help but give in to.

Prompto flings himself in front of the prince on sheer instinct, the claws and teeth digging into his skin, _hard_ and unlike Gladio and Ignis, he doesn’t have access to the armiger to protect himself. The blonde yelps, backpedalling and trying to fling the goblin off him, but only managing to make the teeth dig in harder to his arm, the claws scrabbling at his shoulders and throat.

The prince jumps back, and there’s a flash of blue light as he pulls a sword out of the space between reality, the use of magic and waking up from someone else using it taking the wind out of him. Still, he manages to jab his sword at the goblin, and he almost cringes back, trying to not hit Prom in the crossfire.

He doesn’t manage it.

He gets the goblin, sure, severing the small beasts spine, but he also gets Prompto, straight through the gut.

With a final yell, the daemon lets go, falling to the ground, and Prompto doesn’t realise what’s happened for a moment. The adrenaline rush taking away the pain. Until. He looks down, and sees the blood pouring out of his own body, a gory display that’s unlike any horror movie he’s watched from behind his fingers.

He puts his hand over the wound, warm and pulsing. He looks up at the prince, who is standing mouth agape and frozen. They can both still hear the advisor and the shield fighting beside them, but the world seems to narrow, time slowing down for the both of them.

Until Prompto collapses.

All of a sudden, the prince is a flurry of movement and words, crouching over the fallen blonde, and dragging at his magic. He knows how to make a potion, sure, but he doesn’t have the _time_ to make a potion right now, instead he pulls the pure magic from that space between reality where the armiger lays, and his hands are over the wound (the wound that he made, _he did this_ ). He’s not even sure how it works, what really happens in those few seconds, but Prompto groans, and Noctis can’t feel any fresh blood coming out of the wound. The ones on his shoulders and arms are still open, and the blonde still looks paler than usual, the blood having literally gone out of his face, but now he thinks that they have a bit more time.

He looks to Ignis, who is standing, chest heaving, daggers at his sides. The advisor meets his eyes with a curse, out of character for the older blonde, but this calls for it.

It takes Gladio dragging the Prince off of Prompto’s passed out body for them to get him away. Noctis is almost beyond consolation, the exhaustion of using so much of his magic finally overcoming him. He falls limp in Gladio’s arms, simply watching as Ignis checks Prompto’s injuries.

“We need to get back to Insomnia.” The older blonde says grimly. His hands have blood on them, and his hair is all over the place in a way that Noctis rarely sees.

“It’s two days hike back to the meeting point.” Gladio says. There’s a current of concern carried through his gruff voice. He’s trying to work out if he’s going to need to carry a passed-out teenager on his back for the next two days.

“I know.” Ignis gets up for a moment, then starts to manoeuvre Prompto back into the tent that they’d been sleeping in not even half an hour ago. “I’ll stay with him the rest of the night, keep an eye on him.”

“I’ll keep watch.” Gladio says, and he starts to push the prince into the tent that he and Ignis had been sharing. Noctis pulls away and goes into the same tent as Ignis and Prompto. It’s squished and uncomfortable, but he can’t be alone right now.

He can see Gladio’s silhouette through the canvas of the tent, but he doesn’t focus on that. His eyes are drawn to Prompto’s prone form, the blood still gone from his face, as Ignis starts to clean his arms.

“You managed to close the bigger wound,” Ignis looks like wants to say something more, but falters, “He’ll recover.” The words fall limp and hollow from the advisor’s mouth, and Noctis can’t even bring himself to nod in the cool of the night. “You should attempt to get some rest. Using your magic like that will exhaust you.”

Noctis does nod at that one.

He doesn’t sleep.

He’s tired, of course, exhausted even, but every time that he closes his eyes, all that he can see is Prompto in front of him, eyes wide, a sword piercing his gut. So, all he manages to do all night is roll over, and stare at the wall of the canvas tent.

The next morning is hard. Despite not recalling falling asleep, Noctis must have managed to doze at some point in the very early hours of the morning, because he wakes up with his back _screaming_ at him. He tries to roll over, but gets as far as getting on to his back before he needs to take a break. The pain is throbbing in his lower back, and he turns his head, looking for Prompto, Ignis, anyone. He’s suddenly glad the Ignis remembered to bring his pain meds, because he’s pretty sure he can’t even get up right now.

Sure enough, the advisor is still in the tent, asleep sitting up, his glasses almost falling off the end of his nose.

“Specs.” He says quietly, trying to not wake up the still sleeping Prompto. “Ignis.” He tries, a little louder.

Ignis wakes with a start, looking over at the prince. He pushes his glasses up with a deep breath in, eyes closing for a moment before opening again, still slightly bleary.

“Where’d you put my meds.” The prince asks, reaching a hand out, trying to not brush over Prompto in the process. The advisor seems to click after a moment, and goes digging into a bag beside him.

He hands them to the prince, along with a bottle of water, watching with careful eyes as the younger struggles to down the pills. He knows that they’ll kick in in an hour or so, but until then he’s going to be basically useless to everyone.

Without another word, Ignis leaves the tent, probably to go talk to Gladio, and Noctis feels a wave of guilt wash over him. He can hear them talking through the walls of the tent, but not well enough to make out the words. He’s not sure that he wants to hear them anyway.

An hour or so later when he can finally haul himself off the ground (not without pain, mind you, but enough that he can stand without collapsing), he sits in a camp chair that Ignis insisted he sit in, while he checks over Prompto’s injuries.

The blonde is awake, finally, but in clear pain, not only from the claws and teeth that dug into his skin, but the burns left by the daemonic saliva and skin secretions. Gladio has similar burns from touching the daemons, but far less severe.

Prompto hasn’t even made eye contact with Noctis yet, let alone said a word to him. He hasn’t said much to anyone, far from his usual bubbly self, he’s only answered Ignis when asked questions. Even Gladio is subdued and mellow, eyes still scanning the horizon, despite the risen sun.

“We should really get moving soon.” The shield says, breaking the near silence. Ignis shoots him a glare on behalf of the prince and Prompto, but he’s cut off by a voice.

“Yeah.” Prompto says, weakly. He gets up, and he’s wobbly at first, the pain clear in the way he grits his teeth and holds his arm close to his body. A new wave of guilt rushes over Noctis when he feels relief that it isn’t him injured like that. “I’m good to start moving now, if you guys are?” His eyes flicker over to Noctis finally, where he’s still sitting in the camp chair, white-knuckling the arms of it.

Noctis forces himself out of the chair, legs almost going out from under him with the surge of pain that causes, but he manages to power through it, leaning against the chair still, but with his feet firmly under him. The pain is throbbing and aching, and he’s unused to it after so long without such a bad flareup. This isn’t a true flareup either, considering that it was brought on by such heavy movement and magic use, but it sure feels like one.

There’s also the undercurrent of a different type of exhaustion than what he’s used to. Somehow more than bone deep, and he knows that it’s from overusing his magic and not channelling it properly, something that Ignis had harped on him about, and something Lunafreya had often spoken of in their messages.

Lunafreya, he hasn’t thought about in a little while. After a few years of sending letters via her dogs that always seemed to be able to find a way across the border, Noctis and Lunafreya had finally been able to convince everyone that being able to text was a good idea, they were to be married after all.

The connection was spotty at best though, and they weren’t able to talk often. Maybe one or two days a week he would get a message from her. They shared a lot in common, of course, being the next in line for the crown, but they had many differences as well.

And he didn’t love her. At least not in the way that he’s sure he’s supposed to. She’s a valued friend and confidant, for sure, but she’s not someone that Noctis would try and pursue, even aside from the fact that he has a large preference for guys.

However, that is all a problem for Future Noct, when they get back to civilisation, and he can take a week to just lay in bed and do nothing. For now, he needed to find a big stick to lean against, and they all needed to start walking, if they wanted to get anywhere close to a haven by nightfall.

Ignis and Gladio took up posts at either end of the small group, Noctis and Prompto gathered between them. They weren’t walking quickly at all, the injuries the two had sustained only made worse by the uneven wooded ground, and the only thing that could have really made it worse was rain, not that Ignis wanted to jinx them like that.

Eventually, when the sun was high in the sky, they had to break for lunch. Noctis and Prompto were set up against a fallen log, and the older two of the group found themselves just out of earshot, talking about what comes next.

“We aren’t going to make it to the haven by tonight.” Gladio says, voice rough. His arms are crossed defensively, but held tenderly so the burns didn’t rub against each other, the tension instead all bunched up in his shoulders.

“We can’t keep travelling after sundown to reach it either,” the advisor pushes his glasses back on his nose with a sigh, “I should not have app-“

“Hey.” Gladio cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder, “this isn’t your fault.”

Ignis looks away, eyes landing on a bird in a tree several metres away. “I should have known better.” He settles on. “The prince doesn’t have the training to defend himself-”

“If that’s anyone’s fault, its mine,” the shield says, “It’s supposed to be my duty to protect him, and that includes leaving him able to protect himself.” He shakes his head, “Blondie shouldn’t have had to do what he did. He doesn’t have _any_ training.”

Ignis looks back over his shoulder where the two boys are slumped against each other, back to back. The log they sit on can’t be comfortable, but there’s not much else in the forest for them to rest against, the creatures that crawl through the leaf litter seeing humans so rarely that they don’t even know to be scared.

“For now, though,” Gladio continues, setting his shoulders, “We just need to get them back home, safe.” There’s a hardness to his eyes and voice, and Ignis feels the same resoluteness settle in him, jaw clenching.

Ignis can’t let go of the fact that he should have shut this down before they even got this far, but he can’t let that cloud his judgement of what they need to do next. He’s already sent a message back to the citadel that they’re going to be back sooner than expected, and they’ll need the infirmary set up when they do get back, but that he’ll send more information when they get closer.

It should, theoretically, only take them two nights to get back to where they were dropped off, from which point they’d be able to drive easily back into the city. However, with injuries and not being able to travel past sundown it could easily take four or five days for them to make the same trek.

He at least has a sense of relief that they’ve enough food for the rest of the trip, having planned for it to be ten nights in the first place.

After they’ve all been fed, they start the walk back up again. Gladio navigates them, trying to stick to less dense parts of the woods. It's far from easy, but they manage to get about two-thirds of the way to the next haven before the sun starts to set. They stop in a small clearing in the wood, clearing the leaf-litter enough away that they can get a fire going without risking lighting the whole place up. None of them expect to sleep that night, but they set up the tents anyway, and Prompto gets up to try and help with food, only to be shot back down.

Eventually, Prompto and Noctis end up squirreled away in their tent, Ignis still outside taking down the cooking set up, and the pair of them sit and listen for a few minutes, not saying anything to each other.

"I'm sorry," Noctis eventually says, small and looking away from Prompto. He's not even sure that the blonde has heard him at first, until he feels a hand (cold, the blonde is always, always cold) brush against his, their fingers twining together.

"I needed to protect you." Prompto settles on, awkward in the way that only teenagers can be. "You're more important than I am, you know, in the grand scheme of things," he trails off at the end of the sentence, trying his hardest to not pull his hand out of the prince's.

"No, I should have been able to protect myself, what kind of king will I be-" he's cut off by Prompto's voice.

"You're a _kid_ " Prompto says, voice full of passion, "We both are, you shouldn't have to worry about that." He pouts, eyes still not focused on Noctis, instead tracking the ever-moving shadows of Ignis and Gladio.

"Yeah, but I do anyway. That's what my whole life leads up to." He puts his head in his hand, the one that isn't being held by Prompto's still cold one. It's a wonder that the blonde doesn't freeze to death, because it isn't really even cold outside. He squeezes Prom's fingers, and gets a squeeze back. The corners of his lips quirk up, not quite a smile.

"Well then I'll just have to be there to keep you grounded!" Prompto says, voice not quite as loud as usual, but the joy slipping back in, and Noctis snorts.

"Oh yeah, imagine you in a room full of foreign dignitaries, that'll end well. Pfft."

"Hey!" Prompto says, nudging him with his shoulder, I could be fancy if I wanted to!" He straightens his back up, pushing through the wince of the skin on his collarbone pulling. "See?"

"Sure thing," Rolling his eyes, Noct pushes himself closer to the blonde, and if anyone had asked, he would have said it was from the chill of the night, even though the cool barely pierced the canvas of the tent. "Thankyou." He leans his shoulder against Prompto, feeling the bones of the skinnier boy poking through the thin cotton shirt that he wears.

"It was what anyone would have done," he says, and his head leans away (a blush that Noct can't see is on his cheeks), but his shoulder stays where it is.

"Doesn't mean I appreciate it any less."

The tent goes quiet, and Noct looks over, eyes meeting Prompto's for the briefest of moments, before looking away, trying to repress the blush on his own cheeks. Instead, he gets up with a cough, and starts to arrange his sleeping bag, Prompto doing the same.

Eventually the pair of them ending up on the ground, back to back. Noct can see Gladio outside, his silhouette moving along the edge of their small campsite, and he can't see Specs anymore, so they must be taking turns for the night, there's no way they'll be able to power through otherwise.

He doesn't sleep much that night, the way the Prompto's breath hitches whenever he rolls the wrong way and pulls at the wounds on his chest, or seeing Gladio in the corner of his vision and flinching, thinking that it's a daemon, his body immediately going in to fight or flight mode. Or when he closes his eyes and the image of Prompto's body, unconscious and bleeding out on the ground, Noct crouched over him, desperately trying to save him, is all he can see. He doesn't sleep much.

Gladio, for his part, stays alert through the night, waking Ignis up halfway through, wanting to stay up later, but knowing that the advisor would only yell at him for doing so. They swap without speaking any words, but a touch on the shoulder and a shared look says everything, 'good luck' 'good night' 'I'm proud of you.'

In the morning before they set off, Ignis sits Prompto down to check his wounds. The shorter blonde is sitting in one of the camp chairs, Gladio unpacking around them while Ignis is crouched in front of him, Prompto's shirt slung over the back of the chair, but the advisor only has a professional gaze.

"This isn't healing quite as well as I had hoped," Ignis pushes his hair back with a slight frown. The skin of his stomach has scarred over, the wound closed, though it's left an area of raised pink skin. That isn't the part that has Ignis worried though. No, it's the newly scabbed over wounds on his arm and chest, the bruising around them tinting his skin black and blue, other parts pink from the daemon-fluid burns, the same type that Gladio has. Some of the wounds still ooze blood, and others weep a yellow-tinged fluid that Ignis knows isn't good.

"We had better keep an eye on the wound," he says, "It may develop an infection, especially with the conditions we are currently in, and that wouldn’t be ideal."

"No kidding," Prompto says, laughing weakly, looking down at the now-closed scar on his stomach from where the sword went in, only an inch or so left of his bellybutton. "I guess we better get a move on." He looks around for approval, pulling his shirt off the back of the chair.

Noct took his pain meds that morning, but it doesn't make walking several kilometers through wood and rough terrain any easier. He finds a large stick on the ground, uses it to lean against and he still lags behind in the group, hunching himself over, despite the reduced pain level.

"You alright Princess?" Gladio says, putting a hand on his back. "Looking a bit rough."

"I'm fine." He straightens up, or tries to, but can only get himself halfway back to fully standing, leaning heavily on the branch. "Just need to take a minute. Still tired."

"We can take a break." The shield says, voice softer than usual. "Take ten and then we'll get moving again." He says a bit louder, and Ignis and Prompto have already stopped moving, worried glances looking over the pair.

Gladio helps the prince get to the ground, leaning against a tree to try and straighten himself out without putting the stress on his back of standing. They all sit together, and Prompto doesn't even start to ramble aimlessly like he usually would, Noctis knows that he didn't get much sleep either, his restlessness and hitched breathing giving him away.

"When we get back to Insomnia all will be well," Ignis supplies, saying it more to the air than to any one of the group. He cleans his glasses off on his shirt, a fitted athletic shirt rather than his usual button downs, not made for this kind of situation, though his jacket is still closer to a blazer than anything else, not able to completely give up the formality of his dress.

"Yeah, we just need to get there first," the Prince says, "How long left do you think Gladio? Two nights? Three?"

"Depends on how much we can keep up the pace," he shrugs, "Two if we can keep going like this or a bit faster, three if we can't."

“Guess we better keep moving then,” Noct says from the ground, and he starts to push himself up. “I don’t want to spend any more time out here than we absolutely have to.” Bracing himself against the tree, he looks around at the rest of the group, eyes settling for a moment longer on Prompto, the edge of the wounds on his chest peeking out over the collar of his shirt.

“Let’s go,” the blonde says, injured arm still cradled in close to his body, fingers gripping his shirt to keep the limb in place. “I can still walk fine.” He says, when Ignis gives him a concerned look. “And it’ll probably be better if we can get out faster, so I can see a doctor, or something.”

Ignis knows there won’t be an ‘or something’ about it, because he won’t let the blonde leave the Citadel without getting looked over by a medical professional, and possibly not for a few days after that if it turns out he should be under observation. A fiercely protective streak over the boy had been formed in the last few months of him spending more time around the prince, and Ignis would not let any more harm befall the boy.

“Let’s get a move on then.” Gladio says, locking eyes with Ignis, and the advisor knows that Gladio is having the same thoughts, wanting to get both of the boys back to civilisation as soon as possible, home, and safe.

The days walk is harsh and tiring, would be even if they weren’t injured and sleep deprived, but with some prodding from Prompto and assurance from Noctis that he was fine, they managed to keep pace, and arrive at the haven on time. It’s raised up off the ground, and they’re able to look around at the tree’s around them, able to just see over the treetops if Prom stands on his toes.

He can’t see the city from there, even though he knows they’re only a day from the drop-off point, and Ignis has already told them that he’s messaged the crownsguard again, told them they should only be another couple of nights out, and they’ll be met at the same spot they were dropped off. There’s still a lingering feeling of worry in Prompto’s gut though, and it’s not caused by the scar there.

The feeling comes to fruition in the morning.

It rains overnight, heavy, and unrelenting. The tent is waterproof, but that doesn’t stop the _sound_ of it, the thunderous thudding of water against canvas that doesn’t stop. Noctis doesn’t even put up the illusion of trying to sleep, instead sitting against the back wall of the tent, watching the flashes of lightning illuminate the silhouettes of the treeline around them. It’s fascinating, in a scary sort of way.

Noctis has never been scared by storms, but he thinks he might be now. He knows, in the back of his head, that in the morning they’ll need to get moving, even if it’s still raining, and the already present ache in his back tells him that it’s going to be anything but pleasant.

Prompto, on the other hand, at least gives a token attempt to fall asleep, the sound of thunder like the sound of doors slamming, the sound of stomping footsteps coming up the stairs and the sound of slamming the window behind him as he jumps off the ledge of the roof.

He lays there, hoping that the prince can’t see him shaking finely, can’t see the way he grits his teeth at each clap of thunder. It’s not the storm that he’s always been afraid of, it what the sound of thunder can hide within it.

Gladio and Ignis sit in the other tent, back to back, both somewhere between asleep and awake, Ignis jolting at the thunderclaps, pushing his glasses back on to his face, because he needs to be able to know if the prince needs his aid. Gladio faces the other way, eyes scanning the tent canvas with each lightning crack, looking for an enemy that isn’t there. One that shouldn’t be there at all, given that they’re on a haven, but one that he can’t convince his brain to shut up about.

The next morning, the rain has barely let up. The only reason that they can even tell that it’s morning is the clock on Ignis’ nearly dead phone. They weren’t prepared for this. It was supposed to be dry the entire trip, but instead, it seems like nature has other plans, the darkness overtaking the small clearing and the entire forest around it.

None of them have wet weather clothes, but that doesn’t stop them from taking down the camp and starting their walk.

It’s gruelling, the muddy ground making every step more effort than the one before, having to _lean in_ to the movement, and more than once Noctis has to tell them to stop, that his back just can’t take any more at the moment. And so, they stand in the rain, a combination of panting and shivering. Soaked to the bone from the relentless rain, and knowing that they aren’t going to make it to the drop-off point tonight.

More than once, Prompto slips in the mud, half of it because he’s already not the most dextrous person around, the other half the sleep deprivation, the injuries, the rain and the combination of them all that has him just wanting to sleep. After the first time it happens and Ignis has to stop to clean the mud out of his wounds, he winds up wrapped up in one of Gladio’s jackets, weighing him down, but keeping the dirt off him, for the most part.

He still ends up with it streaked through his hair, and he doesn’t even have the energy to complain about it ruining his look.

They day is long, and harsh, and they barely stop for lunch, none of them hungry but all of them knowing that they need to eat, or they’ll pass out, and they still make far less ground than they should have.

They end up stopping in the middle of the woods somewhere, it’s just barely less populated by trees than the grounds around it, not even close to being a clearing, but it will have to do for the night.

Ignis can’t get the propane burner working outside with the rain, and they can’t use it in one of the tents without risking something catching on fire, so they eat trail bars and dried fruit, all four of them huddled in the one tent to keep warm.

Prompto is once more sitting with his shirt off, Ignis cleaning the mud out of the bite and burn marks on his chest and arm, and the shaking is not just from the cold. No, it’s a fine trembling that he can’t control, and the gritting of his teeth that scarcely halts them chattering together, even though in the tent the body heat keeps the temperature up.

It doesn’t stop throughout the night. The shaking, and when the morning starts to come, a cough. Dry and loud, and something that Prompto can’t control from where he’s managed to worm his way to the outer edge of the tent, the boy sounds like he’s hacking up a lung. Pain lances through his chest, and he doesn’t even need to look over his shoulder to feel Ignis’ knowing and concerned gaze on his back.

When he does eventually turn over and see the advisor- sans glasses- looking his direction, it’s all he can manage to say, “I’m fine, go back to sleep,” and collapse against the ground.

The rising sun does nothing the stop the shaking either. But it does mean they need to move again. Prompto keeps getting worried looks from the other members of the party, but he shrugs them off. He’s fine. Really. The shaking of his limbs, and the coughing when he tries to walk too fast is nothing. And they really need to get to the pickup point anyhow.

It only gets worse. The rain is still coming down, not as hard as the day previous, but still persistent and heavy, soaking through all the layers of their clothing, dripping off their eyelashes and completely obscuring Ignis’ glasses.

“Guess I don’t need to wash my hair when we get back,” Prompto says at one point, trying to lighten the mood, but when he attempts a laugh and ends up bent over coughing, it doesn’t land as well as he had hoped.

Another night of sleeping out in the open, hampered both by the rain making it hard to move, and the trail being ruined, having to wander around without a GPS, all their phones now long-dead, and they all missed the familiar blue glow of the haven runes. Prompto remembers from school that the havens are natural elemental deposits, but the oracles of ages past were able to shape the primal magic into something defensive for people to be safe upon. He wasn’t sure how they managed to stave off the daemons for so long, but hey, he wasn’t going to look a gift oracle in the mouth.

Follow that with another day of coughing, and sneezing, and wheezing so hard that he literally falls over more than once, the group is more than eager to make it back to the citadel. Gladio and Prompto's daemon wounds aren't looking great either, the burns and punctures starting to fester and weep yellow pus. They brought a rudimentary first aid kit with them, but it wasn't meant for daemon wound-care, and Ignis could do little more than try to keep them clean and bandaged.

Wracked with chills, and coughing more than breathing, Prompto is at the back of the group when they finally reach the main road. It feels like it's been weeks since they entered the muddy forest, and immediately when they exit, they see an Insomnian van waiting there. Crownsguard inside, Ignis pushes Noctis and Prompto in ahead of him, wiping the water off his glasses for what feels like the hundredth time that hour. Prompto barely climbs into the vehicle before a crownsguard is at him, cropped brown hair and a first aid kit on his lap where he sits next to him.

"Hey kid," the man says, starting to rummage through the medkit, eyebrows drawn slightly in the dim of the back of the van. "Can you take the jacket off?" Prompto does that, and someone behind them hands him a towel.

He's shaking, but he's not cold, so all he does is wrap it around his shoulders, bracing against the rough road. Prompto's coughing and wheezing while the guard starts to wipe the gunk off his shoulder and arm with the towel, and he's far from clean from the caked on layers of mud and dirt that make him look more like a homeless child than a friend of the prince, but he doesn't have the energy to do it himself.

The guard talks to him while they're driving, and Noct is there sitting in front of him, Ignis beside him, and Gladio on the other side of the vehicle, also being tended to by a crownsguard, though less involved as the shield is far more coherent.

The trip is a few hours, and Prompto sleeps through a lot of it, after the crownsguard has attempted to clean off his shoulder and arm, getting the mud and blood off them, and telling him that he was lucky none of them needed stitches. Prompto didn't feel very lucky, but didn't say so. Instead he kept listening as the brown-haired guard told him there was nothing to do for his cough ("I'm not exactly a doctor but it sounds like more than just a cough, like, pneumonia or something") until they get back to the Citadel, so he just closes his eyes and dozes.

Or at least, it feels like dozing to him, but he doesn't wake up again until the same brown haired crownsguard shakes him on the shoulder, and pulls him to his feet. Blinking into the light, Prompto stumbles out of the van, looking around for the others. He's not even had the time to spot them before someone dressed in medic gear comes up to him, and starts to move him along.

"What- where?" Prompto swings his head around. His brain is working overtime to try and catch him back up. He's still squinting, pulling away from the medic to try and see where the others are.

"Hey!" the medic says, grabbing him by the wrist, "You're going to fall over," but Prompto is too busy not knowing what's going on.

He finally, after what feels like minutes but is probably not even thirty seconds, lands eyes on Ignis. The advisor locks eyes with him (looking half-asleep as well) and walks over quickly, ushering Prompto back towards the medic. "Come on Prompto," he says, a hand on his back, "We'll get you up into the infirmary," and adds after a moment, seeing Prompto's visible confusion, "We're back at the Citadel now, home."

“Yeah,” Prompto says, and he’s not sure what part he’s agreeing with, maybe all of it? He’s guided into a wheelchair, and he feels stupid about it, but also, he’s not sure that he can walk very well at the moment, and the Citadel is a very large building. So maybe it’s for the best. The exhaustion seems to hit him all at once now that he’s out of the forest.

He drifts in and out of awareness as he’s brought up several floors (not as high as Noct’s room, but high enough that he wouldn’t want to have to walk down the stairs) to the infirmary. It’s almost empty apart from the medical staff, and a couple of crownsguard by the door that Prompto doesn’t recognise.

Ignis is sitting in a chair near the door to the room, the advisor looking far more run down than usual. Gladio sits on the edge of one of the hospital beds, shirt off, while a nurse starts to look over the daemon burns on his skin (he’ll need to get another appointment with his tattoo artist, his half-done tattoo damaged by the burns to his skin). Noctis lays in a bed, eyes tightly shut, jaw clenching through the pain of laying down flat. He’s hooked up to an IV, which probably has pain meds in it, but they’ll still take a bit to kick in.

Prompto feels crowded by people and machines, and his brain just can’t seem to keep up with what’s going on, Ignis by the door answering most of the questions that the doctors are aiming at Prompto. He tells them his birthday while they start to hook him up to various machines. And then his home address (which takes more time, he’s awake, really, he just has to think hard about it) while needle is pushed into his arm, a drip attached that makes his arm run cold.

It’s all a blur of machines and people asking him questions, and eventually, he gets a moment to himself, and he falls back asleep almost immediately. He’s not even hungry or thirsty or really in pain (he’s in pain, logically he knows that he is, but whatever is in the drip is making it feel fuzzy) more than he is just _exhausted_. The tiredness seems to set in his bones.

Ignis sat in the chair nearest the door, feeling rather more like a silent sentry than an advisor. He watched the medical staff as they worked, Gladio sitting on the edge of the bed, the large man of course too proud to sit in it properly, and wanting to get out of it as soon as possible.

His eyes lingered on Noctis, the drip slowly getting more of his pain medication into his system, the prince sleeping not-quite soundly. But still getting better sleep than he had in days, not kept awake by worrying about being attacked by daemons, nor the shaking and wheezing of his best friend.

Speaking of which, Prompto was laid out in another bed, hooked up to several machines, though he was also asleep. Words could not contain the guilt that the advisor felt over the young blonde getting hurt. Keeping the prince safe, was of course his duty, but Prompto didn’t share that same vow, had risked life and limb of his own volition, and been gravely injured because of it.

Watching the harsh breathing, Ignis let out a deep sigh. But it wouldn't do any of them good to sit around and sulk, so Ignis pulled out his phone. He may as well start looking into physical therapists and the like, as it was more than likely Prompto was going to need one once all was said and done. And it couldn't hurt to start drawing up a new training plan for the prince as well, as clearly they needed to start taking it more seriously.

So for the next few hours, Ignis busies himself doing things that he could almost definitely delegate to other people, but it keeps him distracted, and more importantly, awake. Prompto and Noctis are sleeping soundly in their beds, and Gladio is half-dozing in a chair next to the prince, occasionally opening his eyes and scanning the room, then closing them again.

The constant beeping of the machines that Prompto is hooked up to (and the wheezing, no wonder the poor kid is passed out, it sounds like it's taking immense amounts of energy to just breathe) is rhythmic, and it almost begins to fade into the background at some point. Probably an hour later, a crownsguard drops a blanket in his lap, doesn't say anything, but raises an eyebrow giving him a look. Ignis brushes him off with a curt thanks.

Of course, staying awake to watch over everyone can't last forever. Ignis isn't sure when exactly he drifts off, but when he next wakes up, early morning light is streaming through the windows, and Gladio has obviously left the room to get changed at some point during the night. He should probably do the same, and get fresh clothes for the prince and Prompto, the prince was still wearing his camping clothes covered in dirt and mud, though Prompto had been changed by a nurse into a medical gown instead of a shirt, probably so they could more easily keep an eye on him.

Ignis comes back into the room with fresh clothes, and feels much more himself. A button-down shirt and ironed jacket, his familiar black slacks that make him feel much more at home. He carries a shirt and pair of sweatpants over one arm for Noct, and managed to find the same for Prompto. They aren't the boys usual style, but somehow the advisor doesn't think he's going to get any complaints. Aside from anything else, Prompto still isn't awake, though the young prince is looking around groggily, eyes blinking in the morning sun. Ignis is pretty sure this is the earliest he's seen the prince awake in years. "Morning specs," the prince says, yawning, and Gladio waves his good morning from beside him, elbow resting on the edge of the bed.

"Good morning Noctis," he hangs the pants and shirt on the edge of the bed, "feeling better this morning?" the dark circles are ever present under the princes eyes, but he's awake, which is a far sight better than some mornings.

"I'm pretty sure my blood is like, fifty percent pain meds, so yeah."

"Well," Ignis put a hand to his head and sighed, "It's better than nothing, I suppose."

"Come on, give the kid a break," Gladio says, picking his head up from where it had been resting on his hand, "We've been through a lot in the last week, I'd probably sleep for the next twenty four hours too, if you let me," Ignis caught Gladio glancing at Prompto (still asleep, a nurse on the other side of the room keeping an eye on him).

"That doesn't make it a good idea Gladio." He sighed again, "But, I agree that we should all take it easy, at least until all three of you are recovered." Noctis sent him a smirk, and Ignis quickly added, "Don't think this gets you out of homework entirely, you still need keep up with it," and the young prince's face fell. Gladio chuckled.

"How much longer d'you think I need to stay here?" the prince asked quite suddenly, "This is nice and all, but I'd rather be in my own bed, you know?" He raised an eyebrow and Ignis.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I wouldn't think more than another day or so before you can go back to your own room. I've already organised an appointment with a physiotherapist to see about your back," Ignis says, and the prince groans deeply.

“Not looking forward to it,” he says, under his breath.

"Well luckily, Prompto will be going along with you, as I have taken the liberty of scheduling appointments for him as well." Ignis didn't say that he was never going to mention the price of the appointments to Prompto, but everyone else in the room knew it anyway. Ignis flicked his eyes over to Prompto- still asleep.

Which was how he stayed for the next few hours, until he woke in fits and starts. One eye opened, then closed again, until eventually, the blonde began to sit up, trying to look around the room. His shoulder and arm ached, but his chest ached more. The room itself was pretty quiet, the muted sounds of machine beeping, people walking around inside, and when he looked across the room, Noctis and Gladio sitting and quietly chatting, the prince looking much more like himself than when Prom had last been awake. He has his phone in his hands, and the shield is leaning over, clearly looking at something on the screen.

Prompto starts a cough, and quickly it blows out of control. He feels like he's going to pass out because he just can't get a breath in through all the coughing, but of course, eventually he does. The coughs slow, and his chest feels like it's just caved in. A nurse is standing at his side, muttering something to herself, but she doesn't seem mad, so he doesn't say anything. Instead he looks back up, and Noctis is looking at him, concern evident in his eyes, Gladio just barely managing to avoid the same look, instead having the stoic look that he always carries, but his body is leaned towards Prompto, a hand on the edge of Noct's bed, ready to get up and help at a moments notice.

Things get worse before they get better. Prompto doesn't remember much of it, but his temperature gets really high, and there's fluid in his lungs, and Gladio, Noct, and Ignis spend three or four days not knowing how Prompto is going to pull through it. They all carefully avoid thinking about the fact that Prompto's parents haven't reached out to any of them, and none of them have volunteered the information either.

Staring at Prompto's sweating body, eyes closed and a tube down his throat to help him breathe, Noct has to pull himself together. He knows that they have the best doctors and nurses working to keep him stable, but that doesn't make him feel any better to see his best friend like this.

It's a rough few days. Noctis doesn't eat properly, and sleeps somehow even more than usual, waking up at odd hours of the night to get up and eat, or sit in the shower, and he was going to visit Prompto before the crownsguard were instructed to not let him in. Something done by Ignis, probably, or his father, at Ignis' word. His dad has been around more than usual, trying to catch him in the hallway on the rare moments that they both have time to themselves. Time that Noct knows his father doesn't usually have without sacrificing something else that needs to be seen to. But that doesn't make it any easier. The older he gets, the more and less he understands the old man. He just wants to be left alone. Noctis spends the time with his father being distant, and cold, more than a moody teenager usually is.

But luckily, those few days don't last forever. After another week, where Prompto slowly regains lucidity and memories of what happened while they were camping, he’s released from the infirmary. He doesn't go very far, as all of them want to keep him close, and Prompto clearly doesn't have problems with it, and he and Noctis are close enough to the same size clothing that even when he doesn't want to go home and pick up extra clothes, it doesn't matter all the much.

He mostly spends time wherever Noct is, a blonde shadow, slowly regaining his usual energy and peppiness, even if slightly restrained at doctor’s orders. It's nice. The pair of them start going to see the physical therapist, and it's far from pleasant, Noctis remembers it from his childhood, after he got the original injury to his back, but it's better with Prompto there. The blonde makes jokes about the whole thing, and keeps the mood way lighter, and every week that they have an appointment, things feel more and more back to normal.

Not that it's always a good thing, because Prompto's parents do eventually come looking for him, sending text messages and calling the boys cell phone. Noctis finds him one day walking out of the bathroom, face pale and he shoves his phone into his pocket forcefully. Noct quirks an eyebrow, and that's all it takes to get the answer out of his friend.

He doesn't go back to the house though. Noct isn't sure what magic Ignis works, but he comes in an hour later, and tells Prompto not to worry about it (which obviously Noct can tell from the way Prompto bites his lip, he's worrying about it, but there's not much to be done about that) and Noctis sets them up with a racing game, hoping to take Prompto's mind off it.

It's almost weird, how much things have gone back to normal. To the point that it feels like things have changed. Or are about to change. Sort of like those moments when you wake up before anyone else, and even though you know in fifteen minutes, there's going to be all sorts of noise and movement, but in those few minutes where you're the only one awake, it's peaceful.

And it is.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
